What is this thing that eats away at men? ,
This yearning to be good again.
So much spent without thought for cost,
Friends made, broken, then lost.
The colorless nights we filled with sound,
Distracted us from treasures we never found.
By what name will we record,
The casual decay of a generation ignored?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem